Free The House You Pass on the Way by Jacqueline Woodson Page B

into the building. She could see Dotti at the other end of the stairs, laughing with a group of girls. When Dotti saw her, she waved, and Staggerlee waved back. Someone held the door open for her. She thanked him and stepped inside the building.
    Hope was born in September. It was warm and clear the day Mama and Daddy returned from the hospital with her. She had been an easy birth, coming quickly in the middle of the day, and Mama seemed rested and happier than she’d been in a long time.
    “This is it,” Mama said, sitting down heavily. “She’s beautiful and sweet and the last Canan baby I’m giving birth to.”
    Daddy smiled and hugged her, then looked over his shoulder to wink at Staggerlee.
    They were sitting in the living room, Battle jumping up and down at Staggerlee’s side to get a better look at the baby. Late-afternoon sun poured in from the windows, and Mama looked beautiful in it—flushed and golden.
    “You make beautiful babies, Mama,” Dotti said. “Might as well fill the world with them.”
    Mama laughed and shook her head.
    Hope stared up at Staggerlee, her eyes barely opened. She was pale and bald the way Battle had been. She would darken the way the rest of them had. Maybe her nose would grow straight like Mama’s. And her lips fill out like Daddy’s.
    “Hey, little sister,” Staggerlee whispered. “Welcome to Sweet Gum.”
    That evening, while Mama and Hope slept and Daddy sat in his study reading, Staggerlee called Trout. She had not spoken to her in a week, and her fingers trembled with the excitement of telling her about Hope.
    The phone rang twice before Trout picked it up.
    “Hey, girl,” she said softly. “Goodness, I was just thinking about you.”
    Staggerlee smiled. They had spoken often since Trout had left, and each time she called, Trout always swore she had just been thinking about her.
    “The baby came,” Staggerlee said. “We’re calling her Hope.”
    “Hope,” Trout said across the distance. “That’s pretty. Hope Canan. Cousin Hope Canan.”
    And they talked long into the night.

Chapter Seventeen
    WINTER CAME EARLY. BY THE END OF OCTOBER there was a sprinkling of snow on the ground. Staggerlee walked through it slowly, heading home. In music class, she had sung “I Wonder As I Wander,” and her music teacher, Ms. Gibson, had asked if she would join the choir. Staggerlee smiled, remembering the teacher’s breathless excitement. “I remember your grandmother,” Ms. Gibson had said. “You have her gift of song.” Staggerlee had never thought she had anybody’s gift of anything. They’re all inside of us, Staggerlee thought as she climbed the porch stairs, past people and present people. And probably even the people we’ll become.
    She had not heard from Trout in a while. Each time she called, the answering machine picked up. Trout hadn’t returned any of her calls. Staggerlee climbed the porch stairs slowly, wondering if she’d done something wrong, and tried to think back to their last conversation. Trout had seemed distant but still Trout, and they had talked about school mostly and a little bit about last summer.
    Mama was sitting in the living room nursing Hope. She smiled when Staggerlee came in and blew her a kiss.
    “Any calls or letters, Mama?”
    “Your friend Lilly called—said meet her downtown by the movie theater if you still want to go see the film.”
    “Thanks—I’ll probably pass.”
    “Between you and Dotti, it’ll soon be time to get another phone line.”
    “I doubt it,” Staggerlee said. But maybe it was true. She had made some friends this year, and choir would probably mean even more people calling to make plans.
    Maybe Trout was busy with school too. Maybe she’d call tonight or tomorrow. Maybe there’d be a letter in the mail soon.

Chapter Eighteen
    Dear Staggerlee,
    It’s been a long time, and I hope this letter finds you and yours well. I let the months slip past me without writing or returning your calls, and